The Fight

A Poem by Michael Hof

fear and loathing
deep and foreboding

written in my eyes
the spark of anger flies

the powder keg does erupt
violence unleashed, abrupt

fists drenched red with pain
from the man with the broken face
wheezing on the floor in vain
this horse has run its last race

put back in his stable
by this strange fight
found dying near the table
on this crazy night

the fog of war fades
no longer a Spartan
the onlookers float back into my peripheral
as if peering predators beyond the safety of my glades
maybe I'm not the good Samaritan
have I done something terrible

am I the winner
I walk away alone
his friends jump to his aid
silence pats me on the back
maybe I'm the sinner
with a heart of stone
all this trouble I have made
It seems I don't know jack